Angel
by Anya2
Summary: After their run in with the natives Ann should be resting but she just can’t bring herself to leave Jack on his own. [AnnJack]


Title: **Angel**  
Pairing: Ann/Jack  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: None  
Spoilers: Takes place after the events of their first foray on to the island…  
Summary: After their run in with the natives Ann should be resting but she just can't bring herself to leave Jack on his own.  
Disclaimer: PJ and chums own it. And since he has a twenty-five foot ape to back him up I won't argue with that.

Notes: This is basically another missing scene, a little Ann/Jack moment that we missed – their last moments together before she finally sees him again in Kong's lair.

* * *

"Here," Lumpy said, thrusting a blanket hurriedly into her hands, his priorities clearly elsewhere. 

"It's alright, it's clean," he reassured as Ann gave it a rather unimpressed once over, "Just shove it under his head."

She nodded in thanks. Almost as rapidly as he had appeared Lumpy was gone once again, heading out to help his fellow shipmates. Getting away from here was an even more urgent priority than ever now after the events that had occurred in the village. Sailors were superstitious men by nature; they were already mumbling that this place was cursed. As ridiculous as it sounded, Ann was starting to agree with them.

Carefully, she lifted Jack's head up from the table and slipped the rolled up blanket underneath, trying to ignore the blood stain left on the wood. Jack would be fine, everyone assured her, he was just going to be out cold for a while. Ann didn't doubt them - in their line of work she knew they must come across their fair share of injuries - she just wished that he'd wake up. She needed his company right now, to see the care and affection in his gaze which somehow managed to settle her every doubt, the first person outside her little theatre family in a long time who she felt truly close to. What she didn't need was to be left alone with her own thoughts and memories of what had happened that day.

The village had been death personified. Grey, cold, hard and unforgiving. Full of sharp points and vicious jutting angles, with no sense of care or safety, only brutality. It was more a fortress than a home; she didn't see how anyone did more than simply survived there.

Ann had always considered herself pretty brave – she had to be to come on this trip in the first place and to survive in New York on her own since her mother had left her at thirteen – but the village had genuinely scared her. The atmosphere had felt hostile and tortured as soon as she had walked in, and some instinct inside her had insisted upon doing nothing but scream at her to leave for the sake of her own well being. When she had eventually submitted and had asked Carl if they could go back she didn't like herself for being the weak hearted woman, but the oppression of dread had become simply unbearable. In her head she could hear them - the dying screams of the dead that decorated the place, their bones long since bleached in the sun, still twisted in agony after all this time.

But they were nothing compared to the living though. Ann had often heard such primitive people described as savages but she had never thought it was an entirely appropriate description until now. Even the child had made her uneasy. When it had gone so wild, screeching like some kind of animal and biting Carl, it had definitely rattled her, so much so that she hadn't even realised that the rain had started to fall. It was only when she turned, having heard Mike standing next to her make an odd noise that she became aware of her feet splashing in puddles. That thought was immediately frozen from her mind though as she took in the horrific sight of the spear sticking out of his chest, a look of shock and puzzlement on his face. Without thinking she had screamed, right from the bottom of her lungs, the kind she only thought happened in the movies.

And something in the jungle had defiantly screamed back at her.

Chaos had ensued then, all hell breaking loose and Ann had difficulty remembering what precisely had happened. Parts of the experience though wouldn't leave her no matter how much she wished they would. The sound of Mike's body thudding to the floor for a start and the sudden terrified cries of the men as too many natives appeared as if from nowhere. She could still feel the clawing of dozens of hands, biting at her flesh, trying to pull her into hell and the momentary sanctuary of Jack's protective embrace stolen as she was roughly yanked from his grasp. She had heard the natives' cries of triumph but hadn't been able to see what they had done to the crewman now lying limp and dead on the floor, dark red blood rapidly mixing with the muddy water under their feet. Jack had been desperately calling her name, only to have been suddenly silenced and she was held too painfully tight to look around and see if he was okay.

And then there was the old woman.

She looked weathered and ancient, her hair stark white and thin, like a spider's web catching the rain. But her voice seemed to cry high above the others, her eyes only interested in Ann, looking piercingly at her with accusation and unwarranted malice. Ann had no idea what the words had meant but the woman had spoken them with such venom and power that she was certain it was some kind of curse upon her very soul. That they meant death and torture in ways unimaginable.

Then finally there was the sound of gunfire, a sound she had never associated with relief until now. When the natives had released her, Ann had fallen immediately to her knees, too stunned and disorientated to stand anymore, her breathing coming in sobbing, panicked gasps. It was Englehorn himself who had come over to help her, pulling her to her feet, asking her if she was hurt, practical as always. She had shaken her head unable to look at him, eyes scanning the bedlam around her as her trembling hands wiped a mixture of tears and rain from her face, only serving to add mud to the equation.

When she had first seen Jack lying on the ground, Choy and Lumpy kneeling beside him, she had thought for certain that he was dead. She had run there, feet slipping on the treacherous, muddy ground, falling to her knees beside him. Her hands had flown to her mouth, heartbroken sobs threatening to overwhelm her.

"Oh God, Jack…No…"

"No, it's okay," Choy had quickly reassured her, his voice as pleasant and cheerful as always, "He's okay. Just knocked out."

The relief she felt was palpable, hardly daring to believe it for a moment before a hand on Jack's chest confirmed that he was indeed still breathing. She had slumped forward then, suddenly too exhausted to support herself, grateful sobs wracking her body as her lay across his prone form. Englehorn had been there again to coerce her back to her feet, handing her over to Hayes like some kind of cargo, telling the man to see her safely back to the ship. She had resisted as best as her shattered nerves would allow, wanting to stay with Jack, wanting to help somehow, but she was quickly assured that he'd be following on behind, Lumpy and Choy already hauling him up between them.

On the short boat ride back to the Venture, Ann had sat deathly still, Jack's head lying in her lap, the blood from his wound staining her dress. She had run her fingers tenderly through his soaked hair, whispering words of comfort that he couldn't hear, barely noticing Carl, Preston, Bruce and Herb, all still in shocked silence. The storm was worsening, getting more fierce by the moment and the boat had rocked and pitched dangerously. When had they miraculously arrived back on the Venture without smashing to pieces on the rocks, Jack had been carried through to the galley. Lumpy doubled up as the ship's medic and he could keep an eye on him there. Besides, he had reasoned when Ann had questioned the decision, it was more hygienic up here than down in his cage. She doubted that, but said nothing.

When he had been carefully laid out on the bench, his head resting on the table, Hayes had suggested she go and get herself cleaned up a bit. She certainly knew she must be a real sight – hair soaked and matted, clothes drenched through, muddy and stained with blood. But as soon as she had gone to leave though, only meaning to take a quick trip to her cabin to dry, change and then return, she found that she just couldn't do it. She couldn't leave him until she knew for certain he was all right. Hayes had nodded in understanding, even though she hadn't said a word, fetching her a chair from the kitchen and placing it close to where the writer was laying. Then he left them to it without another word.

She sat now, holding Jack's hand. No one apart from Lumpy had disturbed her since Hayes had left. Not even Carl had come in to see how his friend was doing, the thought making her slightly resentful towards the film maker. She had no idea how long she had been here. She had long ago heard Englehorn and the others return, could now hear their shouting cries as they worked to free the ship from the rocks, the sounds muffled by the roar of the storm and the batter of fierce waves. They seemed to carry with them the curses of the old woman, bloodthirsty and hateful, wishing death upon her. No matter how much she tried to clear it from her mind, the woman's voice wouldn't leave, muttering words Ann didn't understand but which terrified her all the same.

Suddenly and without warning, Jack's eyes opened wildly and Ann's heart leapt into her throat from shock. He cried out her name in a desperate manner, as though for a moment he still believed they were on the island, his voice hoarse and dry. Then he froze, looking around in confusion, suddenly realising he wasn't where he expected to be and afraid about what it meant.

"It's okay," Ann reassured quietly, leaning in a little so he could see her better without having to move, "It's alright…"

He stared at her in bewilderment, his eyes lacking their usual focus and intelligence. For a moment he wasn't Jack Driscoll at all. And then, to her great relief, the man seemed to seep back in and his broken voice came once more.

"Ann…"

"Shh," she encouraged, reaching behind herself for the mug of water she had put aside, "Here. Drink this."

She helped him to sit up a little as she held the mug to his dry, cracked lips. He swallowed too quickly into his parched throat, coughing and spluttering for a moment until he regained his composure. Once he had finished he slumped exhaustedly back onto the table, looking decidedly pale and queasy, his brow covered in sweat. She pulled a clean handkerchief from her pocket, dipping it into the remaining water and running it soothingly across his forehead.

"Thanks," he said, looking up at her gratefully, "But you really don't have to-"

"Don't be silly," she interrupted him, re-wetting the hanky and laying it across his too warm brow, taking his hand comfortingly in hers.

"What happened?" he asked, wincing slightly as he turned his head to look at her better.

"Englehorn," she explained, "He and his men came to get us."

"Are you okay?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, "I'm not the one lying on the kitchen table."

"You know what I mean," he said in all seriousness and Ann hesitated for a moment, not having realised that the trauma of the incident must have shown so clearly in her face.

"I'm fine," she reassured, "Just a little shaken."

She didn't know whether or not he believed her but he squeezed her hand comfortingly in response all the same.

Silence reigned for a moment and Jack closed his eyes. Ann was just beginning to think he'd fallen asleep when he smiled slowly.

"For a moment there I thought I was dead and you were some kind of angel," he admitted with a slight chuckle, laughing at himself.

She gave a wry smile.

"Looking like this? Hardly."

He opened his eyes again.

"You look fine to me," he replied, an unsteady hand reaching up to caress her cheek.

She slid her hand over his, holding it there, allowing herself a moment of quiet indulgence in the wake of all the horror she had witnessed that day.

"Just how hard did you hit your head?" she eventually asked with a soft smile.

His face suddenly fell back to a troubled look as she unwittingly reminded him again of what happened. Not that it was easy to forget.

"Was anyone else hurt?"

"Mike the soundman…he's dead," she said after a moment casting her eyes to the floor, hearing once again the thud of the man's body as he had hit the ground, recalling how sweet and awkward he had been when she had mistaken him for Jack and how he had always been slightly nervous around her ever since, even though she apologised a dozen times.

"Yeah I remember," Jack said quietly, clearly wishing he didn't, "Anyone else?"

"One of the crew," she continued, feeling terrible that she didn't even know the man's name.

"What about Carl?" Jack asked, obviously concerned. Ann hadn't asked directly but from what she had gathered the two had known each other for a long time.

"He's fine," she reassured, "He, Preston and Herb are okay."

"Good," Jack muttered, his voice starting to sound slurred as he began to give in to his body's insistence that he sleep. He looked drained and exhausted, and as much as she didn't want to sit there alone again, as much as she needed his company right now, she knew that it was for the best.

"Just close your eyes," she encouraged, stroking her fingers lightly through his hair, "Rest."

"How about you take some of your own advice?" he suggested, eyelids drooping, "Go clean up, get yourself sorted. It'll make you feel a bit better at least…"

"It's okay," she said, shaking her head insistently, "I wanna be here when you wake up."

"You already were," he relied with a quite dopey, half asleep smile, no longer able to keep his eyes open, "My angel…"

"Shh," she said, a warm delighted feeling spreading through her despite the circumstances and even though she realised he'd probably never remember saying that when he woke up, "Sleep now."

He did as he was told, not having the strength to protest against her insistence anymore. After a few moments Ann got her courage up enough and leant across, placing a delicate kiss lightly on his lips. To her mild disappointment he didn't feel it, already asleep once more.

She smiled affectionately as she stood. There'd be plenty of time for more romantic interludes on the return journey and hopefully beyond, the certainty of her convictions surprising her. As she walked back to her cabin Ann dared to believe for the first time in many years that anything her heart wanted wasn't doomed after all. She wouldn't let this be snatched away. Not this time. This time would be different.


End file.
